


Winds of Change

by Apple_Queen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, References to Depression, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19666021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apple_Queen/pseuds/Apple_Queen
Summary: Canon divergent from the start of A Game of Thrones.A bereavement in the royal family changes everything: Robert is unable to travel north. Jaime hits rock bottom. Brienne struggles to adapt to life in the capital.





	Winds of Change

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Saturday everyone!
> 
> So, this has been my labour of love since February and it probably won't be finished any time soon, mainly because I keep getting distracted by other ideas... 
> 
> Warning, if you are triggered by depression, suicidal ideation (although brief) or miscarriage I would advise you to avoid. Angst will turn to fluff before too long though (because fluff is my default!) 
> 
> This probably also isn't for you if you're a huge Cersei fan (spoiler)...

Blood dripped and flowed from the bed to make deep, dark red puddles all over the floor. Jaime had never seen so much blood, even on the battlefield. How was so much blood pouring from his slight sister? Jaime tried to ignore the light headed sense of anxiety and the way his heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of his chest. Cersei would be alright- she had to be.

“Jaime... So cold,” she said, barely managing to whisper. Her eyes drifted closed. Jaime gently put her clammy hand down and stepped forward to grab the front of Grand Maester Pycelle’s robes.

“Do something!” He hissed, giving the man a shake for good measure.

Pycelle dithered, wringing his hands and muttering something about needing a certain book from his office. But before he could shake off Jaime’s grasp and make his escape, his cloudy eyes grew wide.

Jaime turned back to the bed and the bottom dropped out of his stomach, that feeling of falling just the same as when they had jumped from the cliffs of Casterly Rock as children. Cersei’s shallow breaths had stopped and her eyes stared glassily at the ceiling, fixed half open. No matter how long he watched, hoping to see her chest rise or a hand twitch, there were no signs of life. The rosebud lips that Jaime had kissed countless times were rapidly turning blue and her silken alabaster skin was taking on a waxy yellowish appearance like an old stub of a burnt out candle.

It could have been hours or days that he sat numbly over her, silently holding one frigid, heavy hand. A handmaid came in and calmly cleaned up the blood, clotting and purplish. A memory of the day before assaulted him, when he’d had her, three children and a fourth on the way in another three or four moons. The feeling of her soft hair tickling his face as he slid slowly into her from behind until she turned to him and said tersely “hurry up.” How could a memory be both welcome and unwelcome?

It was only when King Robert came to see her body that the numbness dissipated. A wave of rage suffocated him in its place. “You don’t even care! You’ve got the heir and spare you needed from her so you don’t even care that she’s dead!”

Robert opened his mouth, but his anger wouldn’t allow Jaime to listen to whatever platitudes he might attempt. He put all of his strength into landing punch after punch onto his King’s rotund face, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction to see the man bleed just as Cersei had. The hound and Trant pulled him away before he could do as much damage as he would have liked.

Robert wiped at a stream of blood trailing from his left nostril and pulled himself up as much as his bulk would allow. “I knew keeping you here was a mistake- you’ve been nothing but trouble Lannister. I’ll make an exception this time for your grief but know this, if you ever put so much as a toe out of line again I’ll have your head. Take his cloak.”

The white cloak with its hem of blood stains was roughly stripped from his shoulders by his brothers and Jaime was shoved out onto the cold floor of the corridor. He tried not to sob. In just a few hours he’d lost everything- his lover, his other half, and everything he’d ever worked for.

***

Jaime spent the rest of the day stretched out on rough spun cotton sheets, getting out of bed no longer seemed worthwhile. He wondered how long it would take him to join his sweet sister if he just stayed there. Would it be hours or days? The sooner the better. Tyrion allowed him a few hours to mourn in solitude then let himself into Jaime’s new quarters without the courtesy of a knock.

A full cup of wine was pressed at him and Tyrion clambered up to perch somewhere near his knees. “I’m sorry Jaime,” he said softly.

Jaime sat up and swallowed the wine in one gulp that stretched at his throat painfully then held his cup out insistently for more.

“What will you do now?”

Jaime shrugged contritely, not caring to share his intention to just stay in bed and wait to die.

“ _Your_ children are devastated.”

Guilt wormed its way through his guts. He remembered all too well how it felt to lose your mother as a child. Robert would probably be as hopeless as Tywin had been in comforting them.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for some time before Tyrion offered a scroll. “This came from father,” he said with distaste.

Cersei’s death was briefly mentioned, described simply as unfortunate. Anger rose like bile in his throat again. Were Jaime and his poor motherless children the only ones who cared? He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms painfully, but forced himself to finish reading the letter. The second paragraph onwards was all about the new Hand of the King. Tywin was disgusted in Jaime’s behaviour, if only he had controlled himself then Tywin might be holding that position now. But he acknowledged that something good might come of this fuss- Jaime was now free to return to the Rock and marry a suitable girl, which Tywin demanded occur immediately.

Jaime slumped back with a growl, almost spilling his wine. “I’m not going” he decided, as much as Robert would probably prefer him to leave and never return to court, he was going to stay and do whatever he could for the children. The rage bubbled up a little more, “I can’t believe him! Her body’s barely cold and all he can talk about is power and the family line!” Just as suddenly the bubble popped and he was left feeling devastated again. “Tyrion, I don’t know how to live without her,” he admitted sadly.

Tyrion patted his leg and spewed all of the expected condolences and words of encouragement. They did nothing to help. Eventually he spoke again “I’m not sure if I should tell you this, if it will help or make things worse...”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Well you have to now.”

“Cersei... You weren’t the only one of late... It seems likely that the baby wasn’t yours.”

The rushing noise enveloped Jaime’s head before his brother had finished talking. As if from a distance he saw himself roughly shoving Tyrion off the bed and heard himself shout something like “why would you say that?! Get out, just get out!” Then the room was silent bar his own heavy breathing. The silence weighed too heavy, Jaime broke it in a fit of pique, throwing first the chair then the table into the wall with a howl of rage and deepest despair. Nobody, he had nobody now. Robert probably wouldn’t even allow him to spend any time with the children.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback appreciated, this is my first foray into proper angst so I'm a little bit worried I may have laid it on a bit too thick and made it all a little too melodramatic... If anyone has the patience to beta/bounce ideas with a very disorganised sporadic writer I would love you forever!


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